


A Uniform Velocity from the Cradle to the Grave

by Sineala



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Ultimate Universe, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Community: cap_ironman, Future Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Stony Bingo, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 13:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15462153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: The machine found in the wake of the attempted Chitauri invasion opens a portal that could lead anywhere. Steve's sure as hell not expecting it to lead a decade in the future, to a New York reeling from another alien attack. And he's definitely not expecting the man he finds on the other side of it.





	A Uniform Velocity from the Cradle to the Grave

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】A Uniform Velocity from the Cradle to the Grave从摇篮匀速走向坟墓 by Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15588108) by [viola20208102](https://archiveofourown.org/users/viola20208102/pseuds/viola20208102)



> For Cap-IM Bingo, the square "time travel to the future."
> 
> The CNTW and Future & Canonical Character Death tags are because Steve from slightly after Ults 1 visits a future slightly after Cataclysm, so Future Steve has died in the intervening time but Present Steve does not die in this story. Comics are complicated, okay?
> 
> Thanks to BlossomsintheMist for beta!

"It doesn't have to be you, you know," Tony says. His hands are braced on the railing as the two of them stare down at the sprawling laboratory floor below, where SHIELD technicians are busy making last-minute adjustments to the... to the... well, if they knew what it was, Steve wouldn't be here at all.

Steve draws himself up. He's not tall enough to loom over Tony. He feels like a child, playing pretend. Everyone else defers to him as a matter of course, but he's not sure Tony's ever met an authority figure he's respected. In any way. Tony's great in the field -- as the Chitauri invasion proved -- but other than that, he saunters over boundaries and borders like they're not even there. It gets under Steve's skin.

"It ought to be me," Steve replies, trying to infuse his voice with the Captain America gravitas that cows everyone else. He's painfully aware that he's barely twenty-four, and Tony is -- well, when he'd asked, Tony had just laughed, and said, with a swish of his wrist and a lisp in his voice, _didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to ask a lady's age, darling?_ \-- and anyway, he hadn't said, but Steve thinks Tony has to have at least a decade on him.

Tony sure acts like he knows it all, anyway. And now is no exception. He turns around, drapes himself against the railing, and raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Steve tries again. "Look," he says. "We don't actually know how the device works, or where it sends anything. We don't know what's on the other side. I'm a super-soldier. If we're facing unknown conditions, I'm the best bet. And Fury agrees with me. That's why he agreed to let me do this."

He realizes as he says it that adding the part about Fury just sounds like more childish whining. Tony's not going to respect that.

He wonders why he cares so much what Tony thinks of him.

"They sent half a dozen mice through," Tony points out. His mouth curls like he thinks something about this is funny. "The mice all came back fine, and they weren't super-mice, either. Wherever it sends anything, you clearly don't need to be better than a mouse to survive there. Sending you is overkill." He eyes Steve both thoroughly and speculatively; Steve goes hot all over. "Though I feel like _overkill_ is really what Rebirth had in mind for you, now that I think about it. I've seen your muscles, sweetheart."

Steve unclenches his fists, breathes out, and tries not to take it personally. It's a joke to Tony. Everything's a fucking joke to Tony.

The device is one of many things salvaged from the Chitauri's attempted invasion. It's a bare-metal raised platform, about big enough to fit a car on it, with some kind of control panel on the side. Unfortunately, most of the knobs and switches were fried by the time the fighting died down. And even more unfortunately, no one reads Chitauri.

But the big red button -- and it is, literally, a big red button -- still works. They put something on it, it disappears, and half an hour later it reappears. 

The scientists all think it's some kind of teleporter, but no one can tell where it goes. They've tried sending trackers through, but they can't pick up the signals. That's why the next step is an actual human.

"It's going to be someone," Steve says. "It might as well be me."

He can't tell Tony why he really wants to go. If he tells Tony the truth, Tony's going to laugh at him, for sure.

He might not be a genius like Tony, but he's smart enough to have read the reports the scientists have been writing. Some of the particles the device is emitting are ones that they theorize are connected with temporal displacement as well as spatial.

Time travel.

It might be a time machine.

And more than anything else, Steve wants to go home.

It would only be for half an hour, but he'll take it. He doesn't fit in here, in the future. He used to love science-fiction, but this is never what he imagined. Everything is loud and abrasive, everyone is crude, and everyone he loved has moved on without him. This isn't his home.

He knows he can't stay. But he'd do anything to see it again, just for a few minutes.

It's the longest of long shots. He doesn't know if it's a time machine at all, much less if it will send him back to the forties. But it's his only chance, and he's taking it.

Tony just shrugs again.

It's not like Tony cares one way or the other what Steve does, does he?

It's not like that should matter to Steve.

* * *

Tony takes over the controls as Steve clambers up to the platform. Steve pats his belt pouches down and flips one open to make sure the GPS device is still there, its little green light glowing. If they can't track him while he's disappeared, he'll just have to take a look at the readings himself while he's there.

"You want to make sure the GPS is on," Tony says, without looking up, like he thinks that Steve hasn't learned a thing about modern technology in the past year.

"It's on," Steve grits out. God, he hates when Tony does that.

"And, remember, you only get half an hour," Tony says, still absorbed in the platform's settings. Does he think Steve doesn't read any of the reports? Jesus Christ.

"I _know_ ," Steve says. He can feel his jaw tighten.

But then Tony looks up and Steve's almost willing to forgive him, because Tony's smiling, bright, enthralled, excited, a scientist on the verge of an earthshaking discovery. He's looking at Steve with wide eyes, like Steve could be his hero, really his hero, and it does funny things to Steve's stomach.

"Whatever's on the other side," Tony murmurs, awed, "you're going to be the first one to see it. An explorer in a new land."

Steve refrains from telling Tony that that's been his entire life for the past year. He manages half a smile. "Don't get too excited. For all we know, I'm going to Schenectady."

Tony's answering smile is warm and soft and not cruel at all. "I guess you'll find out." His hands are braced on the controls. "Ready?"

Steve nods. "Do it."

Tony presses the button. Steve is enveloped in white light, shining around him, brighter and brighter and--

* * *

When the light fades, Steve doesn't need to check the GPS. He knows exactly where he is, and it's not Schenectady. 

He's standing outside Stark Tower. He's alone on the sidewalk. The day is clear, the sky blue -- huh, he thought it was overcast when he got to SHIELD's labs that morning -- and sunlight gleams off the stories and stories of steel and glass as Steve looks up.

Yep, that's definitely Stark Tower. He'd know it anywhere.

The Chitauri clearly just left them a teleporter. It's disappointing, but he'll live.

He opens his pouch again and fishes out the GPS, just to do everything by the book -- which is when he discovers that the GPS isn't working. It's flashing error messages that Steve thinks have something to do with the system itself. It's not finding the satellites it expects, which is strange, because Steve is most definitely right here in front of Stark Tower.

He grabs his phone from another one of his pouches and frowns at it, because it's not getting a signal either, and last he checked, Tony definitely had cell service at home. Maybe something about the transit fried the electronics.

Well, there's an easy fix for that. He's positive that Tony has a phone at home, and he knows Tony has keyed him -- and the rest of the Ultimates -- for access to his building and even his apartment, in the event of an emergency. So he can just head on up to Tony's place, borrow his phone, and call the SHIELD labs, where Tony actually is. He grins, thinking of it. Tony's going to be awfully surprised to get a call from himself.

The lobby of the building -- because it's Tony's building, after all -- is unstaffed, and there's nothing but a computer panel set against the wall next to the elevators. Tony is very modern. If he'd had an actual front desk, Steve could have just borrowed their phone, but as it is, Steve's going to have to let himself into Tony's apartment, since there's no phone here. He hopes Tony has an actual phone. He probably does. He has everything, doesn't he?

He clears his throat and addresses the computer. "Steve Rogers, requesting access to Tony Stark's apartment."

The computer chimes. "Voiceprint match: Rogers, Steven. Please place your hand on the screen and look into the scanner."

Fingerprints and a retinal scan? That's new. Steve glances around and realized Tony's made a few improvements since the last time he was here. Tony must have gotten paranoid after the damn Chitauri. Steve doesn't blame him, though, he thinks, as he takes off his glove, presses his palm against the panel, and stares at the target drawn on the screen.

There's another chime from the computer. "Identity confirmed. Penthouse access granted."

The elevator next to him opens, and Steve steps inside.

He lets himself relax as the elevator carries him up. He knows where he is. He's somewhere safe. Friendly territory. Nothing untoward can possibly happen. He's just going to go up and use Tony's phone and then wait the rest of the half hour for the teleporter to recall it.

The doors open and he steps out.

Steve has, all told, about half a second of warning, and that's what saves his life. There's a creak and a thud from the couch that faces away from him, toward the far side a of the room, a noise like someone who was sitting there has dropped to the floor. Then he hears the high familiar whine of Tony's repulsor gauntlets, and he flattens himself to the wall as a blast sails past him.

It misses him by miles. Tony is a better shot than that. And it can't be Tony, because Tony's at the lab -- but whoever he left minding the store should have known better than to try to shoot him on sight.

And then his assailant, crouched on the other side of the couch, starts talking.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are, sweetheart," Tony says, his voice slurred with drink, almost unrecognizable, "but you have some fucking nerve coming here today, pretending to be _him_."

What the hell?

"There's no pretending," Steve calls back, confused. "I don't understand. It's me. How did you get here? You were at the lab."

There's a blur of movement, and then Tony pushes himself upright, leaning heavily on the couch, and Steve stares at him in horror, because it's-- it's-- well, it's Tony, but it's not the same man he left. It can't be. This Tony is wearing a rumpled suit, stained with liquor. He smells like a distillery even from this far away. He looks older, but that can't be right. His hair is longer. He's a little thinner. His face is hollow, haunted. Broken.

Tony blinks stupidly at him. His jaw is slack. He rubs his eyes. He wobbles. The gauntlet he was wearing slides off his hand and hits the floor in a clatter of metal on hardwood.

"I didn't think I was drunk enough for hallucinations," he says, thickly. "Maybe it's another goddamn Infinity Gem, huh?" He mumbles it like he expects Steve knows what he's talking about. "Well, you look real enough."

Before Steve can do anything about it, Tony is stumbling forward, and he wraps his arms around him and buries his face into Steve's neck. His arms tighten. It's like being hugged by a boa constrictor. There's a hot wetness on Steve's skin, and that's when he realizes that Tony is crying.

"You know what?" Tony whispers. His shoulders are heaving. "I don't actually care who you really are. You can kill me if that's what you're here for. Just let me pretend this is real for a few more seconds."

Steve can't imagine what it would take to make Tony give up like this. "It's me," he says again. "It's me. It's Steve. This is real. I'm not here to hurt you." He has no idea what's going on.

And that's when he looks out over Tony's shoulder, out the huge windows, and sees something he wasn't expecting: devastation. There's wreckage everywhere, ruined buildings. He should be able to see New Jersey from here, he thinks, but there's just-- almost nothing. A wasteland.

And that's wrong, too, because the Chitauri never hit Jersey. Not like this. This is something else. Something bigger.

"You can't be here," Tony rasps, desperate, even as he holds him tighter. "You can't be here, Steve. You're dead. I watched you die. Last week."

Steve can hardly breathe through the shock of it.

This is all wrong. He isn't where he thought he was after all.

It looks like they found a time machine after all.

"I'm not supposed to be here," he hears himself say.

Tony laughs. "Now you're getting it, darling."

Tony lets go of him, leads him over to the couch, kicks away a few empties. Steve sits down, because he doesn't know what else to do. Tony sits at the other end of the couch, and Steve almost hates to look at him, because the way Tony is looking back at him is with a terrible hunger and desolation in his eyes, like he's missing so much and has decided that it can all be filled by Steve.

Steve doesn't know how to be what he needs. He doesn't know what it is Tony needs.

"So," Steve says, "what year is it?"

Tony smiles a sad smile. "2014. You?"

It's a shock to hear it, but he's past being able to respond to it; it just batters numbly at him, like he's still holding up a shield.

"2004," Steve says. "I'm going back in about twenty minutes. Sorry. It's-- you remember that Chitauri machine we found?"

"Yeah," Tony says. "The one you tried out, but it never-- oh." He pauses. "I think you've split the timeline. You can tell me that when you get back."

"Okay," Steve says, but then he has to ask: "So I'm dead?"

Tony nods. "You sacrificed yourself to buy time while we were fighting this ugly purple giant named Galactus." He gestures out the window at the destruction. "He tried to eat New Jersey." Steve realizes Tony is crying again, tears dripping down his face. "We lost you and Thor. Disbanded the Ultimates, because it's not like I can do this by myself. We just had your funeral. Earlier this morning."

"Oh," Steve says. He isn't exactly sure what to say to that. It's not every day you learn your own future.

He gets ten years. Well, that's better than nothing. At least he knows. It's an odd kind of comfort, to know.

Tony's studying him carefully. "You're taking that better than I would have expected."

Steve looks out at the ruins across the water, then the discarded bottles strewn across the floor, and then finally his own hands, before looking up at Tony.

"I never expected to survive pulling that rocket off course in 1945," he says. "As far as I'm concerned, everything since then has been borrowed time. And if I'm going to go, I can't think of a better way to go than saving the world."

"I can, darling," Tony says. "Old and in bed." He's grinning, but his eyes are frighteningly dull.

Steve just stares; Tony can't really believe that he'll fall for that, can he? Tony learned he had cancer and decided to be a superhero. "You don't mean that."

And then Tony sighs and it's like the mask slips off and he can see the real Tony underneath, hurting. "You're right," Tony says, quietly. "I don't."

Steve's hands tighten on his thighs. He doesn't know how to say the rest, the part where it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't belong here anyway. That part would get him sent to the SHIELD shrinks.

"I'll be fine," he says.

Tony laughs again. "You always say that. Said that. Fuck." He shuts his eyes. "I miss you so much."

When Tony looks at him again, it's with an amount of longing that takes Steve's breath away, and he doesn't think about it. He doesn't need to think about it. He just slides across the couch, closing the space between them, and presses his mouth against Tony's.

It's definitely not the best kiss he's ever had. Tony's mouth tastes like licking a bar mat. Tony is trembling and uncoordinated and nowhere near the suave playboy Steve had expected, but his arms come up and he's holding Steve tight and Steve knows this is the right thing to do. This is what Tony wants.

This is what he wants, too, if he's honest with himself. Tony gets to him and gets under his skin because he's always wanted this. He just hasn't let himself think about it. Never let himself think about guys at all.

But it's the future, isn't it? You can do anything in the future. That's what they're always telling him. Brave new world.

"Wow," Tony says. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, very blue. "I never-- I never thought you would--"

Steve blinks at him. "We don't, in the future? We're not like this? You were looking at me like you wanted to--"

"Oh, I wanted to," Tony says, with a laugh. "I just always thought you'd break my jaw if I asked, darling." The sadness is back in his eyes. "God, I wasted all my chances."

Steve strokes Tony's hair. He thinks about the decade he has, stretching out before him. He thinks about the look in Tony's eyes, as he was getting ready to leave. "Not all of them."

"Steve?" Tony's voice is full of disbelief.

"Well," Steve says, "we've got about fifteen more minutes."

He waits to see what Tony is going to say. He wonders if, given Tony's reputation, it's something crude, something sexual. If Tony's waited a decade to have Captain America on his knees for him. Steve wonders what it says about him that he's not entirely rejecting that idea out of hand. Heat prickles within him.

Tony's been waiting a decade for him. Why wouldn't he want to give Tony everything he can?

"I love you," Tony says, softly, and it's so far from what Steve was expecting that he can't even think of what to say. His brain grinds to a halt, and he's just staring at Tony as awkwardness flashes in Tony's eyes. "I'm sorry," Tony says, hastily. "I know you don't-- I know that's not what you-- but I never told him, and I, I had to tell you. It's okay if you don't. I just-- I just wanted to say that."

Tony's always been so poised, so rehearsed -- every word uttered like the cameras are trained on him -- but there's none of that in him now. He's falling apart in Steve's arms, a messy slough of affection and grief.

Steve licks his lips. He thinks about what to say. He knows what Tony wants to hear -- that he loves him back. But he knows that most of all Tony wants the truth from him.

He traces Tony's hairline with two fingers. "I can't lie to you. And I know you don't want me to." He smiles. "I-- I never really wanted to put a name to it, but I--"

"You don't have to say it," Tony says. "It's okay."

"I could fall for you," Steve blurts out, and he watches another tear trickle down Tony's cheek. "I know myself well enough to say that. I-- I could be happy with you. And I think-- I know-- I know he must have loved you." He can tell from the way that this Tony talks about him, from the way he looks as he talks about him, that they were friends. Steve knows that if you give him a decade of this, of trust and camaraderie -- yeah, he'll fall. "He loved you. Even if he never said."

Tony doesn't bother wiping away the tears.

Steve wonders what happens to his own love life, in the future. He danced with Jan at the White House. She kissed him. It's not a relationship. It's not any kind of promise. Hell, she's still married to Hank.

It's his future. It's not set in stone. Tony had said that he'd split the timeline. This isn't necessarily his destiny.

He doesn't need to wait for it to arrive.

He can make his own choices.

"You think so?" Tony asks.

"I know so," Steve assures him, and he kisses him again.

* * *

They spend the next ten minutes kissing and talking, Tony stumbling over his words, urgently trying to tell Steve everything he's felt over the past decade. Half of it is tales of future operations that don't make any fucking sense -- Steve starts laughing when Tony tells him he's going to be president someday -- but it's plain to see, like this, how much Tony cares for him, and how much his future self must have cared for Tony in return.

And then Steve's watch beeps.

"Thirty seconds," Steve says, reluctantly. "Maybe-- maybe I can figure out how to come back."

"It's okay," Tony says, but his face is starting to close off again. "It's enough."

Steve leans in and kisses him one more time.

Gail used to look at him like that, he thinks. The way Tony is looking at him now. Admiration. Adoration. But that was a long time ago.

All he knows how to do is leave people behind.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, helplessly. "I-- I wish I could make you happy."

Tony smiles weakly. "You did, darling."

"Maybe you'll have another miracle," Steve offers. He doesn't know if it's true, but, God, he wants it to be.

"If anyone can do it," Tony says, "you can."

But the world goes white around him, and he's slipping through Tony's hands, and he's gone--

* * *

He comes back to reality in a shower of sparks. The time machine is on fire, and he jumps off the platform in time to collide with-- Tony.

Ten years younger, Tony looks at him urgently. "Cap!" he says, as he reaches out to steady him. "Are you okay?" And the look in his eyes-- the look in his eyes--

_Oh_ , Steve thinks, numbly. _He already loves me._

* * *

The time machine is toast, and it's another hour before Steve is done with the debriefing, telling a room of scientists and top brass -- and Tony -- exactly what he learned about the future, the future that might be their future. He makes it sounds like he only saw the devastation. He tells them about Galactus. He omits the fact that he met Tony.

He also omits the kissing.

It's a struggle for him to keep his mind on the mission and his eyes on the generals as he talks. They're not focused on him a hundred percent of the time; Fury and one of his scientists keep trading questions about the theoretical consequences and whether Steve saw a possible future or a certain one, and Steve's gaze keeps drifting back to Tony.

When he looks at him, it's easy enough to overlay the memory of the man he saw in the future. The other Tony was sharper where this man is soft -- not _soft_ like Steve would have meant the word when he'd met Tony, when he'd wondered what the hell the government was doing hiring men who talked like fairies -- but _soft_ like he still remembers happiness. Not sharp like everything else about him had burned away, reforged in a crucible that only left grief behind.

He doesn't want Tony to become that man. He likes Tony's warmth, Tony's kindness. He knows that now even more acutely, now that he's seen Tony without him. He wants Tony to be happy.

He wonders if he has a choice in the matter.

At the head of the table, Fury claps his hands, and Steve sits up straighter.

"I think that's enough for now, gentlemen," Fury says, and his eye settles on Steve. "Captain, I'll expect your written report tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

They all get up to leave.

Now, Steve realizes. Now is when he gets to make a choice. This is his future. He gets to pick.

"Tony," he says.

He doesn't raise his voice, doesn't pitch it over the chatter, but Tony stops nonetheless. Everyone else flows around him while he stands still, a rock in a stream, and lets the crowd pass.

They're the only ones in the room. Steve swallows hard as Tony turns around and raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, darling?" Tony asks. He gives away nothing.

Steve clears his throat. "I, uh. I didn't tell Fury everything. But I wanted to tell you first. You should know." He feels like he can barely breathe. "I met you, in the future. That's what I wanted to tell you."

Tony pauses. Steve can watch him search through his options, come up with something to say, and he can tell by the glint in his eye that Tony's already decided on deflection.

"And how was I?" Tony smiles the smile he smiles for the cameras. "Was I gorgeous as always?" His voice is light. He sounds like a fairy. Steve supposes he is. He supposes they both are. After all, Steve was the one who was just kissing him, a decade in the future. Tony doesn't know. To him, it's still a joke.

But it's not a joke to Steve.

He steps forward. "Do you-- do you have feelings for me?"

There's only silence in the room. It's like all the air has been sucked out of it. Steve can't breathe, and he watches the color drain from Tony's face. Tony's eyes are wide.

He looks almost as shocked as his future self did when he saw Steve.

"Is this some kind of trick question?" Tony asks. It's his real voice, lower, not a put-on at all. His throat works. "If I say yes, do you call me a queer and punch me? Is that what's going on here?"

Mute, Steve shakes his head. All he can do is hold out his hands.

Tony takes a step toward him, but he doesn't say anything.

"I met you," Steve whispers. "I met you, in the future, and you-- you loved me, but I had died, and we never had the chance--"

"Steve," Tony says, and there's something so open in his face, shocked, broken wide open, like Steve has ripped the lock off the closed book of his secrets. He takes another step closer.

"I want to do it right," Steve says. "I want that. Please."

Another step, and Tony is in his arms, and Tony is smiling. There are no tears now, when Tony kisses him.

Steve doesn't know how time travel works, but as Tony's lips meet his again and again, he knows the future will be better now.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post](http://sineala.tumblr.com/post/176363418344/fic-a-uniform-velocity-from-the-cradle-to-the)!


End file.
